Heavy Cat

I just emailed with a friend who used the phrase 'heavy cat' as an excuse for bad typing and I decided that, though it probably makes no sense to any of you, it is quite brilliant. Hence, Paul wins the award for titling my entry. Congrats, Paul! ::crickets in the darkness::

I am at a bit of a loss to figure out what to write about when I'm not on a fantastical adventure. While Real Life has a way of kicking the creativity out of a person, so does sitting in one's comfortable bed. A Word On My Bed: I have missed this bed and I have been attempting to write an "Ode To My Bed" for years now but have not been able to convey my exact feelings due to the limitations of language (and, well, the limitations of my writing in general). What I can say is that it offers mind-blowing back support and a comfort that no hotel bed, no matter how fancy, can ever give to me. I can relish this bed for 12 hours at a time, where my maximum stay in a hotel bed has been clocked at 10 (usually owing to one very zealous maid who takes no joy in acknowledging the 'Do Not Disturb' sign).

Lest you think I can remain sedentary for too long, I am leaving for San Francisco tomorrow morning. It's about an 11-hour drive from here and I'm really excited about solo road trip. It has nothing to do with my travel partner and everything to do with how I am wired. The key to being a really good travel partner is compromise and accommodation and you should have enough of both to adequately disguise your controlling tendencies over the stereo, pit stops, and choice of eateries. Anyway, yes, going to San Francisco for business and pleasure. See some friends, see if I can convince someone to take me on tour with them. And if I can get both in the same person, well aren't I a lucky girl? We will also have the privilege of seeing The New Year tomorrow night, which should sufficiently conclude a nice 12-hour day in the car.

Then, as far as I know, I'm home for realz on the 27th (unless some pressing vacationary matters arise). I have a birthday party coming up which gives me every excuse in the book to wear a silly hat, yell indiscriminately at people (and inanimate objects, depending on where the night takes me), and demand presents. While I will probably only wear a birthday cone on my head and jump for joy if the chef decides to give me free appetizers, I love to pretend that I can be a brash, demanding princess on "my day." Hell, it might be more profitable - but it just ain't me. And technically, "my day" was a few weeks ago so we'll see if I can even finagle a free drink.

That's the update for now. I promise to have more actual stories once my focus steers away from "How in the hell am I going to pay that bill?" and settles once again on "I was riding the bus and this crackhead sat down next to me..." I wish I had a heavy cat to blame for my awkward set of priorities (thanks again, Paul. Heavy cat is a slam dunk! ::crickets::)...

Meeeeowrawrumph.

- Russia